


Sleight Of Hand And Twist Of Fate

by gaialux



Category: Boondock Saints (Movies)
Genre: 5 Things, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Soul Bond, Twincest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-23 02:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2531363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five different ways they proved they were connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sleight Of Hand And Twist Of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Murphy and Connor are ~16 during some sexual content (and referenced ~14 when it began).

_"You believe in soul mates? Finding your other half?"_ ~ Paris, je t'aime.

 

_1._

By the time they're old enough to understand Church, it's already ingrained in their skin and their souls. Connor picks up on the Nicene Creed first and Murphy follows suits with the next line—

_"I believe in one God—"_

_"—the Father almighty"_

—until they trip into synchronisation with identically laced hands and the same momentum of lips. Murphy looks across at Connor, eyes meet, words over.

 _"Amen."_ _  
_

Ma makes them stay late some days, to speak to the priest. To learn more about how the Bible verses fit together like the puzzle pieces of St. Patrick's Cathedral they've been putting together. How God has angels as soldiers and wants people to live His word.

It's around this time they begin to wake up simultaneously each and every morning.

 

_2._

Murphy's always better with people (where people means _girls_ only that doesn't become important until later). From that early age he's better at charming and making friends. Goes up to someone, smiles, makes a connection for life. He never forgets Connor, though; always makes sure he's introduced.

"This is my brother," are the first words from his mouth. Before his name, before his reason, before his hello.

Ma says Connor will learn nothing from it, won't be able to even open his trap to give a reading at school. But he does. Until they're one in the same with finishing each other's sentences both verbally and off.

Murphy says to him — one night when the power goes off as it's nearing winter, fucking cold enough that they're pressed in Murphy's single bed with every spare blanket in the house piled on top of them — that they're destined for things.

"What the hell are you talkin' about?" Connor asks and tries to move closer so he can see Murphy's eyes through the dancing shadows of a nearby candle.

"What?" Murphy asks. He's smiling. Connor can see the flash of teeth. "You don't believe in that?"

"No, I don't believe in that," Connor says. He turns onto his back and stares up at the ceiling, acutely aware of how little room is left between them in this bed at fourteen. They used to share it, or so they've been told. He's not sure how that would be possible now. He turns back to Murphy. "Why do you?"

Murphy shrugs. It's more the feeling of his shoulders move than sight. "Why not?"

That's the first night Murphy kisses him.

 

_3._

Dropping out of school isn't as easy as Murphy thought it'd be. Not the paperwork, though — that's the simple part.

"Yer not," is all Ma says at the start.

"But—"

"—No."

So Murphy leaves it at that, tugs on his coat, and goes out to tell Connor the plan of moving right now is bust. It doesn't matter that there'd been whispers of their father being in America, or that he'd managed to line up a job and place to live already. If Ma said they couldn't go, there was no way around it. Murphy doesn't know  _why_ exactly, only that he's sure she would stand on the tarmac with her arms outstretched if they tried (or tether the ship to port since, who are they kidding, they'd never be able to afford the flight).

"Ma says no," Murphy says when he finds Connor leaning against a tree in one of the fields. He accepts the smoke handed to him.

"She'll change her mind," Connor says. "Always does."

"You keep thinkin' that." Murphy sits down next to Connor, pushes him so there's more room to fit against the trunk of the huge oak.

Connor reaches out and flicks open his lighter, holding the flame up to where the cigarette dangles from Murphy's mouth. "I will."

A tendril of smoke wisps its way up between them, joined by a second. They rise toward the sky but disappear before they're close enough to join the clouds.

"So what're we gonna do?" Murphy asks.

"I say we learn Spanish," Connor says. Murphy raises an eyebrow. "Throw in another language. Then maybe she'll decide we've outwitted the school system."

Murphy rolls his eyes. "I'm sure that'll work."

"Of course it will. We sit out certificate and we're done."

Murphy runs a hand through his hair, blows more smoke up toward the sky, and can't decide on any other reaction but to smile. "Okay, Con."

"I'm serious," he says.

Murphy's smile just broadens.

"Hey." Connor moves away from the tree and kneels in front of Murphy. "I told yer we're goin' to America."

"You did." Murphy pulls the cigarette from his mouth and crushes it into the dewy green grass before throwing it into the distance. If Ma knew they were smoking, they wouldn't be allowed out of the  _house_  let alone the country.

"Just be patient," Connor insists.

The smile on Murphy's face stays. He doesn't say anything.

"Yer a bastard," Connor says and punches Murphy lightly in the shoulder. "Did you even try to convince Ma?"

"Sure I did. Told her we had the whole thing figured out."

Connor flicks his discarded cigarette at Murphy's head. "Way to go convincin' her. With those skills you could teach a dog and cat to be the best of friends."

"Shut up."

Now it's Connor's turn to smile, right up to where it crinkles the corners of his eyes. He leans in closer to Murphy until Murphy can see the flecks of gold in otherwise dark blue eyes.

"What d'you think she'd say if she knew?" Murphy asks. He doesn't  _want_ to ask, because they never talk about it. Haven't since that first kiss just over a year ago. They just let it happen.

Connor's entire face falls and he rocks back on his heels. "I don't know, man."

The question — even if they don't talk about it — still manages to keep them both up at night. Murphy knows that. A shift in the night and Murphy wakes up to seen Connor with eyes on the ceiling and bottom lip between his teeth. Murphy never says anything. Most nights he just looks over at his brother until Connor turns his head to look at him, manages a smile, and Murphy turns back over to fall asleep.

Other times that doesn't happen, and instead Murphy throws off his covers and pushes back Connor's, shoving his brother with his leg until they both fit again.

"Shh," he'll say when Connor tries to make sense of it. "It's all right."

By the time the sun filters through the thinning curtains of their room, they'll both be awake and facing each other again. Silently, Murphy will move back to his own bed while Connor still watches him from the other. They'll stay like that, staring, until Ma calls and says they have to get ready for school.

"I guess it doesn't matter," Connor says. "We don't needa worry. She'd be too pissed to notice anyway."

"Yeah," Murphy says.

The smile comes back to Connor, but it's cautious relief rather than amusement this time around. Murphy hates that. He hates that he's caused it and can feel it dark and heavy in the pit of his stomach. It's only been there a few times before, but only with Connor. He feels that he should hate that, too — hate his brother for letting that happen — but he doesn't. It hadn't crossed his mind until now.

He pushes through the space between them to catch Connor's mouth and drag Connor back toward him. He's dimly aware that they're out in broad daylight and, isolated field or not, still visible. Connor slides a hand into Murphy's hair and tells him it doesn't matter. Murphy gets it. At the very least it would be a perfect excuse for them to leave.

"You know it would be," Connor says against Murphy's lips before pulling back with a grin and tackling Murphy's belt.

"Aye," Murphy says. He lifts up, gives Connor an easier time to pull down his jeans enough to reach inside and get a hand on his cock. He arches up and tries to re-gain the train of thought he was on. "But maybe..."

"You're right," Connor agrees. "Better ways to do it."

One more smile and he's leaning down bring Murphy's cock into his mouth.

 

_4._

Connor gets seasick. Of course he does. Two hours in and he's curled up on one of the beds with a bucket on the nightstand. Murphy can't help but smile just a little when he's sure Connor isn't looking.

"Why couldn't you have just spent the extra fifty quid?" Connor moans.

"People get sick on planes, too," Murphy says. He sits at the edge of the bed. "Stop being such a baby."

"Fuck you," Connor says. His hand clenches around the pillow but, seeming to think better of it, lets go instead. He curls up tighter and Murphy can move further up on the bed, hand resting on Connor's upper-thigh. Connor takes in a shuddering breath as the cargo ship lurches.

"You okay?" Murphy asks.

Connor  _does_ have the same skin-tone as the walls and sweat beads across his forehead before sliding down his face in patterns of nothing in particular. His rosary is still around his neck, the cross on the bed facing out. Murphy stares at it, wonders if they're making the right choice not only for them but also for God.

"No," Connor mutters.

Murphy leans back against the wall and smooths his thumb against Connor's leg over and over. He doesn't think it would be firm enough to be felt through the layer of denim, but after a while, Connor stretches out a little more and doesn't look quite so green.

"Better?" Murphy asks.

Connor mumbles a non-response and Murphy keeps his hand there. It seems to be doing something at least, even if it's only in Murphy's mind. The freighter keeps rocking and he's waiting for Connor to start hurling again. But he doesn't. It's strangely calm.

Murphy knows this is the last time they'll have this — in America they will have to start a new life, a different life (one where they'll probably have to be  _solely_ brothers, but they haven't spoken about that and Murphy blocks it out) — and he holds on. Holds on the same way he's holding to Connor's leg and telling him to get better.

"Yeah," Connor says.

"What?" Murphy looks back at his brother. From the tiny square window behind him he can see the waves rising up.

"Yeah," Connor repeats. "Feelin' better."

 

_5._

They wake up to water dripping, hard breathing, and thoughts yelling in their heads that  _yes, yes we have to do this_. And when they sit up again, shirts and pants tugged on, Connor looks at Murphy and he knows. _  
_

 _They_ know.

 


End file.
